


is it over yet?

by be_the_one



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Death, F/M, Finally, Hurt, Suicide, They all die, but lincoln and octavia are reunited, everyone is sad, i'M SAD, just like two or three deaths, like a lot of it, lincoln is sad, linctavia is literally the most underrated ship of all time, octavia is sad, so that's great, well not all of them - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 20:12:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15979640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_the_one/pseuds/be_the_one
Summary: Octavia was 19 and she wanted to die.





	is it over yet?

Octavia Blake was born without a father. 

 

She was 6 when her mom started disappearing sporadically - and came back drunk off her ass hours later; and high as a kite. 

 

She was 7 when she declared she’d be a greek goddess when she grew older - like in Bell’s stories - with enough riches to make sure that Bell, barely a teenager, would no longer have to take up jobs from questionable people. 

 

She was 10 when she changed her mind and wanted to become a police officer, because her mom had come home with a lit cigarette, and pressed the butt against Bell’s bicep, because he hadn’t wanted their mom smoking around Octavia - she’d never seen her brother cry like that.

 

She was 13 when her brother brought home Clarke Griffin - a gorgeous blonde with sparkling blue eyes, and a temper that could rival Octavia’s own. 

 

She was 14 when she realized that Clarke lived across town, in the marble mansions - with the people she and Bell labeled as, ‘rich bitches with sticks up their ass’. Of course, Clarke was the exception. But she couldn’t help but resent her slightly when she realized the only reason why she and Bell were ‘best friends’ and not anything more, was the painstakingly obvious contrast between their home lives. 

 

She was 14 when her mom overdosed and was pronounced dead the same night. 

 

She was 14 when Ilian Trishanakru raped her in the bathroom at his own party and walked away with all charges dropped. 

 

She was 15 when her boyfriend, Atom Hunter, cheated on her with Echo Azgeda - because she wouldn’t ‘put out’ for him.

 

She was 16 when she was sent to the hospital in an ambulance because she swallowed too many sleeping pills on purpose.  It took Bell months to pay for her treatment. 

 

She was 16 when she met Lincoln Trikru - a cancer survivor in remission. 

 

She was 16 when he took her up rooftop garden in the hospital - and sketched her amongst the midnight-blooming flowers. 

 

She was 16 when she fell in love with him. Bell wasn’t happy with it - Lincoln was four years older than she was - but for the first time in her life, she was truly happy - not the fake bullshit kind of happy she’d pretended to be in the past to make her brother feel better about their lives. 

 

She was 17 when a scan had shown his cancer was back - as life threatening and soul sucking as it ever was. 

 

She was 17 when he died - hallucinating and half-crazed with the tumor growing inside his brain. 

 

She was 17 when Bell and Clarke gave Clarke’s prejudiced mother and step-father the finger; said  _ screw it _ ; and got together.

 

She was 18 when she realized everyone in her life was moving on. 

 

She was 18 when she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she dreamed about her future. 

 

She was 18 when she realized everyone would be just as happy without her. 

 

Octavia was 19 and she was bleeding out in a graveyard.

 

* * *

 

 

She thinks it hurts. 

 

She  _ thinks  _ that a vertical gash on both of her wrists is supposed to hurt, but she’s not entirely  _ sure,  _ because she can’t feel anything. 

 

She’d think that it might’ve had something to do with the fact that she swallowed half a bottle of painkillers in advance - if not for the fact that nothing is fading away. 

 

She’s still here.

 

She’s still lying in a pool of her own blood - _in a_ _graveyard, of all places._ But it’s not just any graveyard - it’s Lincoln’s. 

 

And she’s leaning against the headstone, with her bloodied fingers brushing against the indent of his name carved into stone. 

 

She wishes she could carve her name next to his. 

 

But she can’t - she can only leave a smear of her blood, to tell everyone that she’s  _ his  _ \- whether it’s in the world of the living, or in death.

 

So, her final words aren’t a wish - but a promise. 

 

“May we meet again.”   
  


* * *

 

 

“Octavia?” 

 

She blinks. 

 

_ The damn pills she found in the bathroom might actually be working after all.  _

 

Because -  _ because,  _ she sees him. 

 

He’s far away - so far away that only his silhouette can be seen, but since she has everything about him committed to memory, Octavia recognizes him instantly. 

 

She blinks again. He’s a lot closer, and she can already make out his features. 

 

She blinks one more time - and he’s towering over her body.

 

“Lincoln.” She smiles - or rather, tries to. It comes out more of a grimace, because she can’t get any of her facial muscles to cooperate with her. 

 

“Is this it?” She almost falls apart when he sits next to her, and pulls her body - frail and shaking - into his arms. _ “Is it over yet?”  _

 

“Soon.” His voice is barely a whisper. “Soon, my love.” 

 

He brushes her hair back, and caresses her face. When he trails his thumb along her lower lip, it trembles - and she allows a tear to escape from her eye. 

 

Everything - everything she’s ever felt - comes rushing back for what she knows is the last time.

 

“It hurts.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I just want it to stop hurting.” 

 

His face begins to blur in and out of focus.  _ No no no no no too soon - it’s too soon - she doesn’t want to leave him - it’s too soon - just a little longer -  _

 

Something wet splashes on her nose. She focuses just enough to see that Lincoln has tears of his own dripping silently. 

 

He doesn’t say anything - and only pulls her tighter into his chest. 

 

“Don’t go.” 

 

He kisses her, and it’s better than she remembers it ever being. He continues to kiss her, pulling back only to whisper against her lips.

 

_ “Never.” _


End file.
